No Sincerer Love
by Copgirl
Summary: Sherlock and John are not floating in space, tied to a bed but this is close enough. A Johnlock-birthday present for MLC. Mystrade is only mentioned, as well as Greg Lestrade. This story got "double-beta-ed" by Johnsarmylady and Jack63kids. Thanks, Ladies!
1. Chapter 1

"You want me to do what?" Mycroft Holmes almost shouted into the phone, startling even his unflappable assistant.

From the way her boss was almost strangling his poor phone it was clear to Anthea that he was talking to his younger brother. She stood up and went to get him some tea he would undoubtedly need to calm his frayed nerves.

Sherlock held his phone at arm's length to prevent his eardrums]from getting hurt. Why did Mycroft need to make things difficult? In the end he would cave in anyway.

"If you don't want to help, I could always ask Geoffrey to assist me."

"Most certainly not!"

Oh, his brother carried around so much insecurity. Sherlock knew he would always fail to seduce the loyal DI, not that he had any intention of doing it, since Lestrade was completely smitten with his the incarnation of the British government.

"Who else is there? If you won't do it, I'm sure the Detective Inspector would be willing." Sherlock allowed to roll the last word from his mouth with as much innuendo as possible. "Bye, Mycroft."

"Okay, I'll do it!"

Sherlock didn't even make an effort to hide the triumphant smile from his voice. "How kind of you."

"When?" Mycroft growled.

"You need to be ready no later than seven. I'll text you," Sherlock added, knowing the text would annoy his brother even further.

"Good afternoon, Sherlock." Mycroft ended the call. For a second he wished they still had the old telephones. Slamming down the receiver instead of pressing a button was much more satisfying.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock, you promised me some food hours ago. I'm going to fall over unless I get something to eat soon," John whined.

The detective studied his friend from his blond mop of hair - _John really needed a haircut soon_ \- all the way down to his shoes.

"No, you won't. The way you hold your body tells me you have at least another hour in you."

John rolled his eyes.

"But," Sherlock held up a finger to show John the importance of the upcoming announcement, "you will be happy to hear that we're heading home and I'm going to pay for our food today."

That immediately roused the doctor's suspicion. "Just like that? We're going home?" John didn't mentioned that Sherlock had said he was going to pay for their food. He probably got a restaurant in mind that owed him and would make payment in the form of a decent meal.

"Unless you have other plans," Sherlock said.

John shook his head. "None whatsoever."

About fifteen minutes later the cab pulled up in front of their home but when John was about to enter the building Sherlock stopped him.

"We're out of milk and biscuits. Would you...?"

Now John was seriously annoyed and looked it too.

"I'll order the food so everything will be ready when you come home," Sherlock promised.

It didn't make sense to argue so John just shook his head in defeat and headed for the nearest Tesco.

Sherlock didn't even wait until John was around the corner before he texted his brother. Knowing Mycroft wouldn't be there for a few minutes he had time for a very quick shower.

When he left the bathroom, wrapped into a towel, his brother stood in the living-room, resentment literally oozing from his ears.

"You owe me for this, Sherlock. You owe me big time."

"Oh, come on, Mycroft. If it goes well, I'll tell you and perhaps you'd like to try it with Gavin."

"I don't want to hear a single word about tonight. Never!" On an afterthought he added, "And you will not mention any of this to Gregory!"

"Your loss." Sherlock shrugged and walked towards his bedroom, knowing John would most likely tell the DI over a pint about it anyway.

He pulled a piece of paper from the drawer in his bedside table and handed it to his brother.

"This is what I have in mind."

Mycroft sighed through his nose and went to work.


	3. Chapter 3

John Watson noticed two things when he came back – the absence of both his flat-mate as well as any aroma that would indicate the presence of food. Terrific! He carried milk and biscuits to the fridge where he discovered a note.

'_Bedroom_'

John furrowed his brow. Putting away the milk quickly he shrugged out of his jacket and headed for the bedroom. Unable to deduce what might await him behind the door he knocked softly before opening it and froze.

Eyes as wide as saucers, his mouth slightly open by surprise, the doctor stood in the door and stared at the display on the bed.

An assortment of what was probably the most expensive sushi in the whole of London was laid out on the otherwise completely nude body of Sherlock Holmes himself.

Several dark green leaves the size of a palm, each one holding one to three pieces of sushi or sashimi, were arranged artfully on Sherlock's smooth torso, starting at his long, pale neck all the way down to his navel. Unable to utter a single word, John stepped closer. The skin between Sherlock's navel and hipbones had been left out but from the hipbones down an assortment of what looked like dabs of mousse au chocolate decorated the equally smooth skin of Sherlock's groin.

John produced a strangled noise. Just a few weeks before, he and Sherlock had finally dared changing their relationship from friends to lovers but, unlike the always curious detective, John had been too shy to explore the superb body he now had full access to.

"I hope you are hungry." The words, murmured in the beautiful baritone, startled the doctor.

"Ah, uhm, yes," he managed to croak.

"There are chopsticks on the bedside table," Sherlock told him with more calm than he actually felt.

Those words seemed to snap John out of his stupor. "Just a moment." He left the room, from the sounds Sherlock heard, to wash his hands.

When he came back, he toed off his shoes, knelt next to the living and breathing serving plate and took the chopsticks. Deep blue eyes studied the display carefully. Sherlock suddenly found it difficult to breathe and wondered if he would be able to hold still.

When John picked up the first piece of fish without so much as touching the skin, a light tremor ran through the consulting detective's slender frame. He watched the food disappear between the plump lips and John's eyes closed in bliss caused by the exquisite taste. The tip of the pink tongue appeared a moment later removing a single grain of rice from the upper-lip and Sherlock's fingers twitched.

After having chewed carefully and swallowed the first bite, the doctor reached for a small cup filled with Sake. He took a sip and returned the cup to the bedside table before he chose the next piece of food with the same care as before.

Not even in his wildest dreams could Sherlock have guessed that watching his lover eat would turn out to be a thoroughly sensual experience. Between savouring the delicious bites himself, John either fed Sherlock morsels of food or ran the tips of the chopsticks over his lover's perfect skin. Having thought the touch of the wooden sticks would be cold and impersonal Sherlock was soon trembling from arousal when they left traces of liquid fire on his skin instead.

Once the last piece of sushi had been consumed, the doctor put the chopsticks aside and studied Sherlock. Pupils blown wide, the man looked completely debauched already and beautiful beyond words. John reached down and softly swiped the pad of his index-finger over the perfect cupid's bow, startled when the tip of his finger was touched by the wet, soft tip of Sherlock's tongue. He couldn't resist any longer and leaned down to kiss the man deeply.

It was a bit of an odd feeling for John to kiss and being kissed with unabashed passion but not being touched anywhere but his lips. As difficult as it apparently was for Sherlock, he restrained himself with all his might to remain the device for serving food. He didn't count kissing John back as cheating because the doctor had started it.

John withdrew to allow himself and Sherlock to catch their breath and used the time to get off the bed and take off his clothing. Slowly. Very very slowly.

He stood where the man on the bed could watch him and made a bit of a show letting his shirt slip from his strong shoulders and wiggle his bottom he knew Sherlock liked very much when he took off his pants.

"Now, dessert, I presume." John licked his lips and tried not to stare at the erection that stood proudly in the middle of the dollops of chocolate. He had to suppress a smile for the whole display looked a bit like a birthday-cake with an oh so edible candle in the middle.

Before he could ruin the mood with a comment John decided that in order to sooth the raging fire in the middle of the chocolaty display it could do with a bit of moisture. Making it look like he was going for one of the chocolate bits he changed direction in the last possible moment and gave the hot flesh a thorough, wet lick. He wasn't sure he had fooled the ever observant detective with his little scheme but the deep moan told him plainly that it was appreciated.

John kept on licking here and there, was sharing a kiss with Sherlock ever now and then after he had tasted a bit of the frankly amazing chocolate and did his best to make his movements as unpredictable as possible. Eventually the last trace of chocolate was gone and Sherlock was left a trembling mess. John sat back on his heels to examine his handy-work.

Although highly aroused himself he managed to keep his voice quite steady when he asked Sherlock teasingly if he too would like a cup of tea now.

That got the detective moving. With a growl Sherlock grabbed his lover and pinned him to the bed. After this more than delicious foreplay, endurance wasn't on the menu any more.

Both men kissed and touched each other, licked and sucked hot skin and the slick sounds combined with moans ended soon with coming on each others bellies while their lover's name fell from their lips.

When his heart no longer tried galloping out of his chest, Sherlock fumbled blindly for the wet cloth he had left in the drawer of his bedside table, cleaned them both and after dumping it back into the drawer, he pulled John to his chest.

John decided that there was no need to fight the exhaustion that had settled in after their love-making. Murmuring a "you are amazing" to an equally exhausted Sherlock, he fell asleep.

* * *

At this point I sincerely hope that the birthday girl is going to get a lovely chocolate cake with one candle in the middle to blow out. And I would love to see her face when she's going to do it. ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

When John woke up in the early morning hours he smelled chocolate. For some reason he had ended up being the big spoon. His nose was pressed to the long pale neck of his lover who was breathing deeply, obviously still being asleep. The doctor discovered a dollop of chocolate on Sherlock's earlobe. How it had ended there, he couldn't fathom. His suppressed laughter as well as licking the earlobe to savour the reminder of last night's activities stirred the sleeping man in his arms, who turned and buried his face in John's chest. An unintelligible mumble came from underneath the mop of dark curls and long limbs were wrapped around his own rather possessively before they went lax, because their owner clearly had fallen asleep again. Before going back to sleep himself, John returned the embrace and wondered if Sherlock could be persuaded to make this a regular, post-case treat.

* * *

_"There is no sincerer love than the love of food." -George Bernard Shaw_


End file.
